One of theexcellent things about abducting Lady Calliope Manning and bringing her to Helston Hall was that it had long since been closed up, with no curious or well-intentioned servants about to question him. Or to stop him.
But also, there werenoservants.
Which meant he would have to play footman, cook, lady’s maid, etcetera, to the woman who was currently glaring at him with murderous intent. That fact rather hit him now, with nothing but an old oil lamp to light the way, and no one but the two of them, since his man was tending to the horses and carriage and would bed down for the night in the stables. To be bitterly honest, the stables were probably more rain-tight than the main house. The previous Earl of Sinclair had been deuced fond of horseflesh and gaming, in exactly that order.
“Wumf fifflemal wamam,” Lady Calliope spat at Sin around the gag he had been forced to put in place halfway through their journey when she refused to shut up.
The hour was late, and the cold, stone great hall of Helston Hall suffered a leaky roof. When he had stopped to gather provisions in the village, it had begun to rain, and the deluge had not stopped. Which meant all about them, the echoing of rain pattering to the stone floor echoed, mingling with his prisoner’s muffled threats.
“Welcome to one of my ancestral hovels,” he announced grimly, offering her a mocking bow. “Forgive the lack of servants and proper roof. Familiar coffers are depleted at the moment, as I am sure you are already more than aware.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Gah er el.”
He was reasonably certain the troublesome baggage had just told him to go to hell. She need not fear. He was already there. And it was time for her to join him, since she had delivered the final deathblow to his reputation.
Just to further irk her, he feigned confusion. “I cannot understand you, I am afraid.”
Her hands were still bound. Her hat was gone, her gown was rumpled, and she was furious. Somehow, in her imperfection, with her Gallic beauty and flashing eyes, she was more beautiful than when she’d had not a hair out of place earlier in the day.
His cock stirred.
Bloody hell.
“Ayeisoff,” Lady Calliope said, lifting her bound hands and attempting to tug at the cloth he had tied in place during one of her stinging diatribes.
She had been ranting about how he was fit for the lunatic asylum and he had murdered her brother and his own wife both. And Sin had finally had enough of that. The remainder of their travel had been so much more pleasant after she had ceased squawking.
Marriage to this woman was going to be wretched. But Sin had already suffered one hellacious marriage, and that one had not even come with enough coin to settle his inherited debts. Fortunately, Lady Calliope Manning hailed from a family of obscene wealth. And he intended to obtain enough of it to rescue himself from ruin. All at her expense.
He would not feel a modicum of guilt about that. Because she had brought this on herself with her vicious lies. The she-devil owed him.
“Come,” he told her, taking her elbow and guiding her to the rickety stairs. “You must be tired after our travels. I will take you to our chamber and you can tend to yourself as you must before dinner.”
Her eyes went wide and she yanked her elbow from his grasp, making a strangled noise.
Blast.He supposed he would have to untie the gag if he was to communicate with her. Unfortunately.
He extracted his blade and used it to slice through the silk handkerchief he had used as his makeshift gag. “There you are, my lady. What was it you wanted to say to me?”
“Ourchamber?” she demanded. “You truly are a madman if you believe I will lower myself to share a chamber with you.”
“You think you are in a position to make demands of me?” He laughed. The sound held no levity. His laughter never did these days. Had not in years, perhaps.
Her lips thinned into a harsh line. “I am a lady. You are a lord. Surely that ought to account for something? Have you forgotten who we are in your merciless plans?”
“Amusing of you to remind me. Had you not thought of something similar before penning your spurious accounts of my supposed memoirs, all so you could ruin me?” he countered. “Tell me, Lady Calliope, where did you come upon some of the information included in those memoirs? The orgies, in particular. Could it be you have experienced them yourself? How shocking for a young, innocent, unwed lady to write such filth. It you were to be revealed as the author to all London, I cannot help but to imagine the scandal.”
Indeed, such a revelation would prove her ruination. The doors of polite society would be forever closed to her, regardless of her brother the duke’s immense wealth. They could overlook her eccentricities, but a fallen woman, and a fallen woman who was hell-bent upon ruining an earl with false memoirs…
She paled. “I told you, I did not write those memoirs.”
“And I told you, I saw them on your writing desk at Westmorland House after I paid a visit to your brother. For a man who led the Special League, he is quite inept at making certain his visitors leave when they say they do.” He caught her elbow again, not above forcing her to the chamber. “And before that, I managed to get the truth out of the younger White. You made it far too easy to find you, Lady Calliope. But I am glad for that, because you are precisely what I need.”
“I will not marry you,” she insisted.
Carrying the lamp, he led her up the steps, taking care to avoid the loose board on the fifth stair. He had made a trip here as part of his plans, just to make certain Helston Hall was yet livable. The answer had been yes.
Barely.
